


Running Backwards

by Diamond_Raven



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, sight-seeing around the US
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15862521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven
Summary: Bucky needs time to figure out who he is and who Steve is to him. He attempts to figure things out by traveling around the US and being pen pals with Steve along the way.





	Running Backwards

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank [Royal_Ermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Ermine/pseuds/Royal_Ermine) for doing a fantastic job betaing this fic for me!
> 
> I love comments in any size, shape or form and I love chatting with readers, so it means the world to me if you took the time to write me a comment if you enjoy the story!

Steve Rogers won’t stop chasing him. Sometimes Sam Wilson is there too, but Steve Rogers is the more noticeable of the two. He makes no effort to stay hidden or discreet; running around and showing people pictures of Bucky’s former face.

Well, no. It’s his current face. But it’s the face of Bucky Barnes and he’s not sure if that’s who he is these days. When people ask his name, it’s easier to shrug and stare at them silently. They think he’s mute and don’t ask him any further questions.

He isn’t too worried about what to call himself and whether he’s still Sergeant Barnes, Bucky, James Barnes or whatever else people used to call him. He’s got more pressing concerns.

It’s the simplest things that cause him confusion and bring on waves of anxiety: when he’s ordering food from a street vendor, he has no idea what he wants to eat. When his clothes wear out and he goes looking for new ones, the choices are overwhelming. He knows he has to keep himself properly dressed to stay warm and comfortable, but what items to select and what combination to wear them in is confusing. He tries to avoid making such choices as much as possible, since it makes him anxious. Again – pretending to be mute works. People get impatient with him and just hand him whatever they think he’d like and take some of the money he holds out.

He tries to keep the rest of his day as choice-free as possible. Wandering around and staring at people or sitting on benches works very well. He has no choice over who passes him, what they’re wearing or what they’re talking about.

But as the months go by, he’s starting to figure out what he does and doesn’t like and what he does and doesn’t want. The progress is slow, but it’s progress.

He likes animals. Spending time in pet shops or in dog parks makes him feel happy. Animals are wonderful because they don’t ask him to choose things and they don’t ask questions he doesn’t know the answers to.

He likes cities. Looking up at towering skyscrapers and joining crowds of people flowing across streets makes him feel good. It feels soothing. Familiar.

He likes caramel candy and hot dogs.

He doesn’t like chocolate or sushi.

In addition to wandering around the States and figuring things out, he spends time trying to untangle his memories. He carries his notebooks around and records any memory that’s clear enough to be worthy of being placed in his notebook. He’s got five notebooks, all filled with different things.

Steve Rogers features in a lot of the notebooks. But mostly his former, skinny self. Not the big version that’s constantly chasing him around now. The big version of Steve Rogers is in a few parts of the notebook—but it’s the notebook that sits at the very bottom of his bag because it contains some…inappropriate material. He’d debated whether to write those memories down in the first place, but he enjoys them a lot and hates the idea of forgetting them again.

*             *             *

Things are going very well, but stupid Steve Rogers keeps trying to interrupt him. Whenever Steve Rogers catches sight of him, he’ll talk to him the same way that he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—talks to scared dogs at the park when he wants them to stop fearing him.

He doesn’t fear Steve Rogers and he resents that Steve Rogers thinks he’s intimidating. The punk ain’t ever intimidated him, even after the machine blew him up four sizes.

What Steve Rogers isn’t understanding is that he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—needs more time and space to figure things out. It’s too distracting to be around Steve Rogers with his sad, puppy-dog eyes that fill with tears whenever he sees him.

He’ll help Steve Rogers feel less sad later, but first he has to figure out who he is. He doesn’t even know what name he wants to call himself. He’s not ready to be taking care of anybody else, especially Steve Rogers. It’s very important to him that he’s in top mental and physical health when he takes care of Steve Rogers, but he needs time to get healthy first, and having Steve Rogers constantly interrupting him isn’t helping.

Avoiding Steve Rogers isn’t working—in fact, the punk gets more determined as the months go by—so a more direct approach is required.

When he’s exploring a marketplace in Seattle, he spies Steve Rogers peeking out at him from behind the nearby fish stall. It’s time to settle this once and for all.

Pretending he hasn’t seen Steve Rogers, he makes his way out of the market and into a less populated area. Once he’s identified an alleyway up ahead, he speeds up, knowing Steve Rogers is increasing his pace behind him to keep up.

Abruptly, he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—veers off into the alleyway and flattens himself against the wall.

Seconds later, Steve Rogers races into the alleyway without bothering to check what’s hiding around the corner, and he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—uses the punk’s stupidity to his advantage and tackles him.

Just like on the heli-carrier, Rogers stops fighting as soon as he recognizes who he is and goes limp, like an idiot.

Steve Rogers allows himself to be gently maneuvered to the ground—the idea of hurting Steve Rogers makes his stomach hurt—and then Steve Rogers stays there, blinking up at him with those sad, puppy-dog eyes as he gasps for breath, his chest heaving.

Seeing Steve Rogers’ chest moving like that is very distracting. It’s summer time and Steve Rogers is wearing a light jacket that’s unzipped, so the only thing covering his chest is one of those ridiculous tight shirts. His nipples are very visible and it abruptly makes Bucky remember one of those inappropriate memories that’s in his notebook at the bottom of his bag.

Steve Rogers isn’t wearing a shirt in the memory and he’s got his arms above his head, grabbing the metal bars of a bed frame, his arms straining and his knuckles clenched white. A brown uniform jacket is tossed on a nearby chair. He—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—is straddling Steve Rogers and his fingers are pinching and rubbing those amazing nipples, while Steve Rogers writhes and moans in pleasure, his eyes half-lidded.

_“I still can’t believe how sensitive your nips are now, Rogers.”_

_“Jesus, Buck—I—God, don’t stop doing that—”_

_“You gonna come from me playing with your nips again? Huh? I ain’t gonna have to touch your cock at all?”_

The tone is light and teasing, but he remembers there was a warm, tension running through his body—his own arousal ramped up from seeing Steve Rogers in such a state.

_“I—Jesus, Buck—I—oh—”_

Giving his head a quick shake, he forces that memory out of his head. Now is not the time to relive that particular memory. It’s one of his favourite memories and he thinks about it very often when he’s alone in a motel room, but now isn’t the time for such things.

The first thing to do is to take his eyes off Steve Rogers’ heaving chest with those sensitive little nipples and sternly remind himself that he’d tossed Steve Rogers to the ground for a reason—and that reason sadly can’t involve straddling him and shoving that shirt up. It wouldn’t be appropriate for a variety of reasons, and the whole point of this meeting is to make it clear to Steve Rogers that he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—needs more space from him.

Straddling him and rubbing his nipples wouldn’t bring that point across, even if they’d both enjoy it.

He forces his eyes to stare at Steve Rogers’ sad, puppy-dog eyes, which quickly kills the remaining arousal running through him. “I need you to leave me alone. I want you to stop chasing me.”

Steve Rogers’ face crumbles and tears well up in his eyes. “Okay. I—Okay. I’ll stop.”

Idiot. Clearly, the punk thinks he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—meant the request permanently. Damn it. He’s terrible at communicating these days. “I don’t mean forever. I just mean…I just mean right now. And—and the next—the next little bit of future.”

What the hell does that even mean? Jesus Christ. He needs to practice talking a lot more if he wants to come across like an intelligent human being again.

Steve Rogers is frowning up at him. There are tears clinging to his ridiculously beautiful eye lashes, but he looks hopeful. “You mean you need more space?”

Those are the words he should have used, yes. “Yeah. I need more space. And more time. I’m figuring things out, but you—you’re causing me stress.”

He knows those words will upset Steve Rogers—and sure enough, the tears well up in his eyes again—so he keeps talking to sooth the hurt of those words. Upsetting Steve Rogers makes his stomach ache. “When you’re chasing me, it makes me feel anxious. Not because—not because you’re the one chasing me, but because somebody’s chasing me. And I don’t feel ready to—to be around you all the time. Not yet. I need more time and space.”

The tears have stopped again. Steve Rogers stays motionless on the ground, staring up at him. “Okay. But what if you need help, Buck?”

It’s so strange to hear Steve calling him ‘Buck’. Like it’s really his name. Like he should feel some kind of connection with it. “I’ll be fine. I ain’t needed help so far, have I?”

Steve Rogers makes a face, which he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—recognizes as acknowledging the point. But then Steve Rogers looks scared. “I’m just scared of losing you again. If you don’t wanna be friends again, then just tell me.”

“I don’t know what I want. That’s the problem. I need time and space to figure things out.”

“But I worry about you.”

It occurs to him that this might be less about Steve Rogers really worrying about him and more about Steve Rogers not having anything else to do than chase somebody around the country.

He really does need time and space, but that doesn’t mean he needs to make Steve Rogers miserable. In fact, Steve Rogers being miserable makes his stomach hurt. “What if I write you letters?”

“Letters?”

“Uh huh.”

Steve Rogers blinks, then a small smile appears on his face. “Letters are complicated, Buck. You need stamps and envelopes and a post office. But what if I got you a phone-computer? You can send me letters on that and even take pictures, if you want.”

*             *             *

The phone-computer works very well. He can take pictures of whatever he wants and he can write letters to Steve Rogers without worrying over finding a post office.

Steve Rogers had asked him if he wanted to try calling him on the phone-computer, but the idea of having to figure out what to say in a telephone conversation makes him anxious. He prefers writing letters. He can take his time, organize his thoughts properly and re-write the whole thing if he changes his mind, and Steve Rogers will never know that he’d changed his mind or that he’d needed five tries to get a specific sentence right.

It’s hard figuring out what to write in his letters. He describes the places he sees and what he learns about them from talking to tour guides and locals. He really wants to write good letters, so he’s forced to spend more time talking to people and asking questions. It becomes easier over time.

He takes lots of pictures and then carefully decides which ones to send to Steve Rogers. It also becomes more important to choose good places to visit. He wants to visit interesting places that will allow him to write interesting letters and take interesting pictures.

He loves the many lights and noises on the Las Vegas strip, and he takes lots of pictures of flashing signs. His favourite is the bright white ‘Welcome to Las Vegas, Nevada’ sign. He even finds some plastic colorful chips on the ground, which a local tells him are used for card games. He finds a post office and mails them to Steve Rogers.

He goes down to Florida and sees weird looking trees, which the locals tell him are palm trees. He takes lots of palm tree pictures and wanders around on the hot sand and spends a day sitting underneath a colorful sun umbrella, staring out at the ocean. Somebody comes by when he’s taking pictures of some sea shells he’s found and asks if he’d like them to take photos of him, so he hands over his phone-computer and smiles when the person asks him to.

He hopes the smile is decent. It feels strange to pulls his face into that shape and he realizes he hasn’t smiled much since the 1940s.

Steve Rogers loves the picture of him standing in front of a palm tree so much that he—Sergeant Barnes/Bucky/James Barnes—decides to ask people to take pictures of him more often.

Thankfully, smiling starts feeling more natural and less strange the more often he does it.

That’s also the day that he decides to remove ‘Sergeant Barnes’ from his list of possible identities. He feels pride at the thought of having served in the military, but he has so many more memories in his notebooks that don’t have anything to do with the military, so he feels comfortable leaving that one behind.

*             *             *

He usually composes his letters during the day and then finishes them in the evening and attaches the best photos to send to Steve. By the time he wakes up, he usually has a long reply from Steve.

He notices that the punk rarely talks about what he does all day. That’s not good because it probably means Steve is spending most of his time at home on his couch, waiting for letters to arrive on his phone-computer. The punk needs to get more exercise and spend more time doing things so he doesn’t spend all his time just missing him.

In order to fix the problem, he starts asking Steve pointed questions, wanting him to go out and take his own pictures and talk about what he does all day.

The first time Steve sends back a picture of some baked goods, telling him that he found a little bakery that’s a few blocks from his apartment, he—Bucky/James Barnes—responds using the same enthusiastic phrases that Steve uses in his replies.

While the words may have been copied from Steve, the emotions behind them are real. Seeing Steve going out and living life a bit more makes him feel relieved and proud.

*             *             *

He’s in San Francisco, taking pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge.

For some reason, the only thought in his head is that he really prefers Brooklyn Bridge. In fact, he feels a weird twinge in his gut at the thought of Brooklyn, like he wants to be in Brooklyn right this second.

He feels that’s a very important, so he pulls out his phone-computer and sends a very short message—including the picture of the bridge—to Steve and tells him he prefers the Brooklyn Bridge.

To his pleasant surprise, ten minutes later, his phone vibrates and he checks it to find a picture of a smiling Steve, with the Brooklyn Bridge behind him and Steve pointing at it. The punk must have run all the way from his apartment down to the river to take the picture.

It makes him smile and he feels a soft, warm glow in his chest at what the punk is willing to do for him.

*             *             *

He finds it’s becoming much easier to structure his days. He knows what kind of things he likes to look at, what kind of things he likes to do and he no longer spends an hour in a restaurant, helplessly staring at a menu and feeling overwhelmed at the sea of choices.

He’s feeling more settled and comfortable in his skin and he’s been feeling less content with the name ‘James Barnes’ lately. Yes, it’s his real, official name, but he doesn’t like the idea of it being his main identity.

That’s a thrilling moment because he’s been secretly hoping that he’ll end up choosing to go with the same name that Steve uses for him all the time. He has no doubt that Steve would have switched to calling him ‘James’ or even ‘James Barnes’ if that’s what Bucky wants. But this works out well for both of them.

He thinks about it for a few days, writes the name ‘Bucky’ in his notebook a bunch of times and introduces himself to people he sees. The name feels familiar and comforting when he says it and that confirms that he’d made the right choice.

Just in case he changes his mind, he continues leaving his name off his letters to Steve, as he’d been doing since they’d started corresponding. But after a few days of letting his choice sink in, he’s still happy about it and decides to make it official.

When he’s watching a baseball game at Wrigley Field in Chicago and he’s already sent Steve five pictures of himself and the baseball players down on the field, he composes a short letter, detailing what’s going on in the game and he doesn’t hesitate before signing it ‘Bucky’.

He knows that’ll probably make Steve cry, so he quickly sends more messages, telling Steve how the baseball game is going so the punk can focus on that. He signs every message with ‘Bucky’.

When he’s staring at Mount Rushmore in South Dakota, he finds himself spending more time looking at his phone-computer and checking for messages from Steve rather than actually looking at Mount Rushmore.

He can feel that he’s ready for the next step. Bucky’s been purposefully compiling a list of New York sight-seeing destinations but he’s been avoiding stepping foot into New York. Steve had respected his wish for space and Bucky hadn’t wanted to intrude into Steve’s space or make things difficult for him.

But now he’s finding himself thinking about New York constantly.

New York and Steve.

He wants to see Brooklyn Bridge. He wants to walk on the sand at Brighton Beach. He wants to see Rockefeller Center and the hustle and bustle of New York, especially Brooklyn. He wants to ride the subway. He wants to eat hot dogs from Nate’s at Coney Island.

He wants to be around Steve.

That discovery is so exciting that he doesn’t hesitate before he’s grabbing his bag and he’s running off to search for a cab to take him to the airport. Along the way, he frantically writes a short message to Steve:

_‘I’m ready. I’m coming home.’_

Steve’s response is a long string of smiley faces. Then Steve wants to know which flight he’s going to be taking.

Bucky’s heart is hammering in his chest and he’s smiling so hard and he’s so excited that the man next to him on the plane keeps staring at him. “I’m going home,” he explains.

“Ah,” the man says. “You’ve been gone for a while?”

Seventy years. A million lifetimes. “Yeah.”

When the plane has landed in New York, Bucky turns his phone-computer back on and sees that Steve has sent him a dozen pictures: all of them showing Steve’s grinning face as he’s in front of his apartment, as he’s sitting in a cab and as he’s waiting in the airport.

Bucky jogs through the corridors, following the signs to where he knows Steve—and his future—are waiting.

Once he’s pushed through the last set of doors, he scans the crowd of waiting greeters and immediately sees Steve, grinning and crying. But these aren’t the sad tears. These are happy tears.

Bucky runs up to him and grabs Steve in a tight hug, burying his face into his neck and breathing in his familiar scent. Steve smells like Steve and also like home.

Steve is squeezing him tight and he’s trembling. Bucky can hear that he’s crying.

“Welcome home, Buck,” Steve mumbles into his shoulder, the words clogged with happy tears.

And for the first time, hearing Steve calling him that name feels right. Not only that, but when Steve says ‘home’, Bucky really feels that it’s true.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! I'd love to hear what you thought about it!


End file.
